


Tattoos

by dizzyingly_dreamy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Peter Parker, De-aged Tony Stark (sort of), Descriptions of gore, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of tattoos, Non-Explicit Sex, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Not exactly what you expect though, Post-Endgame, Sickeningly Sweet Love, They're in love and best friends, Tired Peter Parker, Tired Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, University Peter Parker, You'll have to read it to understand, different endgame ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27173090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyingly_dreamy/pseuds/dizzyingly_dreamy
Summary: “They look at us like we're broken.” he murmured, and Tony barely registered his words as he felt Peter's fingers brush his own. He slid his fingers into the slots between Peter's, lacing them together, and it made his chest tighten into an even more severe fist when he realized how well they fit together. Like the only two pieces of a jagged and torn puzzle, his mind supplied, and Peter's fingers gripped around his gently.“We aren't broken,” Tony whispered. Peter shook his head in agreement, sliding his fingers against Tony's other hand. He slotted them together again without a second thought. Tony could feel the warmth from Peter's body radiating into his own, and it was comforting.~Or, Tony and Peter aren't who they used to be, because they lost themselves, and seemed to have found each other.~I wrote this completely for myself, during a vibe that can be accurately described by the song Nightcall by Kavinsky. If you read, enjoy. If you're scrolling, and you don't read, I hope you enjoy anyway.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	Tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> Tony doesn't have the arc reactor anymore, because I read a story that inspired me that implied that the infinity stones were sentient beings, and they were so impressed by Tony's sacrifice, that they gave him his life back. I tweaked that so that they gave him his youth back, which honestly is any age that you prefer, and Peter's life. (Read the story to understand.) Peter was never really a minor in this Universe, meaning there was no illegal feelings between the two, which I do not condone, even if New York's age of consent is 17.   
> I wrote this for myself, which means that it might not make perfect sense to you lot, which means you can ask me questions as you see fit in the comments. It's more of a slice of life than it is a real story, but it does have a beginning and an ending. It's a little short, but I didn't see any point in drawing it out further than the story demanded. Critiscism and anything you want to say is appreciated, just no negativity, because we have enough of that offline.   
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

10:28pm

P: I need somewhere to stay for a little bit.   
P: nothing crazy  
P: just somewhere

10:30pm

TS: What's going on?  
P: nothing. nothing.   
TS: Nothing is a relative term

10:37pm

TS: Pete.  
TS: I will come to your dorm and knock down your door  
TS: Or I'll send Barnes.  
TS: You two have a strange bond 

10:38pm

P: sorry. I was packing.  
P: you have a point with the relative term, I'll give you that  
P: there is no need to come to my dorm, or to send Bucky  
P: I'll explain later about the nothing  
TS:You know you're welcome any time at the tower.   
TS: Not even sure why you feel the need to ask, actually  
P: I don't know either. Uni does that to me.   
TS: Make you insecure about coming home?

10:41pm

P: is that what it is? home?  
TS: Of course it is.   
TS: Unless you don't think it is.  
TS: I know you and May had the apartment and before that you, her and Ben had the house  
P: I don't want to do this like this.   
P: I'll be over in half an hour.   
TS: Nonsense. I'll come over on the bike.   
TS: It'll take me ten minutes.  
P: okay. I'll see you soon.   
P: thank you Tony.   
TS: Anything for you. 

~

The low rumble of Tony's 1960 Harley broke the muffled silence created by the several inches of powdery snow, but not altogether jarringly. The engine cut, and Tony pulled off his helmet with a soft gasp, his breath clouding in front of him. The air inside the helmet was thick and moist in a way that felt suffocating, and the crisp air of winter was refreshing. It was necessary, though, in order to keep himself anonymous. He raked his fingers through his hair, wincing at how much engine grease had somehow managed to streak through his mussed hair.

A door opened, several feet away, and his eyes and ears were drawn to the sound. He turned to his right, still sitting on the Harley, and witnessed a tall and lean figure shouldering their way out into the depth of the night. Their arms were laden with a bag, another slung over one shoulder, as they stumbled toward Tony, free hand pushing dirty blonde curls from their face. 

Peter approached the side of the bike, stuffing the bag in his arms onto the seat behind Tony. Tony could hear the soft huff of breath escaping Peter's lips as he swung one leg over the bike and slid his arms around Tony's leather-clad waist. Tony slid his helmet back on, revving the engine and driving out of the parking lot. Peter's arms tightened around his waist, but it was comforting rather than awkward. 

The city was glowing with light and euphoria, the pulse of parties and life thrumming through the pavement of the streets. Distant laughter reached their ears as they weaved through traffic, swerving and leaning to avoid other drivers. Peter's cheek was pressed into Tony's shoulder blade, his eyes flitting over neon buildings and flourescent signs. Tony smiled inside of his helmet, cheeks pressing against the soft padding inside the helmet. 

Peter's arms slid from around Tony's waist, and Tony's heart leapt into his throat. He glanced behind him, only to find Peter leaning back, his arms raised in the air, his eyes closed, lips curled into a soft smile, hair tossing in the wind. Tony relaxed, turning back to the road and speeding up, face broken in a smile that spread his heart out on display. It was risky, wearing his heart on his sleeve with such a careless abandon, but he couldn't find it inside himself to care.

Pushing the engine, he jumped into an even faster speed, ducking into one of the underground tunnels, one that would take them right to the Tower. Peter's arms slid back around his waist, and they squeezed once, an expression of gratitude. Tony's chest filled with heat and his smile grew. He was glad that the helmet hid his face, because if Peter saw into his open wound of a heart through his eyes and his lips, he wasn't sure if anything would stay the same. 

He needed consistency right now. 

He cut the engine once they were inside the vehicle elevator, tugging off his helmet and placing it in his lap. He inhaled, messing with his hair, and on the exhale, he opened his eyes and turned to face Peter, hoping he had manged to tuck his heart back into his chest. 

Peter was leaning back on his hands, head tilted to the left, his molten honey eyes shooting right through Tony's walls like they weren't even there. He was looking at Tony through lashes that were clumped together with frozen tears, his cheeks and the tip of his nose rosy and flushed. The hoodie he was wearing Tony recognized as one of his own, one that he'd given Peter before sending him off to Uni. It was loose on him, a size too big, and the faded print across the front read Metallica, making Tony's chest tighten painfully. He swallowed and licked his lips, trying desperately to read Peter's mind, to find out what was going on inside his head. Peter straightened his neck, blinking slowly and letting out a breath it seemed he'd been holding. 

“I want to go public.” he whispered, eyes anywhere but Tony, just as the doors to the elevator opened. Tony heard him as clearly as if he had whispered it directly into his ear, and he tensed. Peter moved his gaze to Tony's again, and there was a sadness in them that started clawing at Tony's heart, ripping pieces of it away, puncturing the safety of his walls. 

“Okay.” Tony replied under his breath, nodding, and he turned back to the Harley, igniting the engine and driving it further into his personal garage. Peter's arms were back around Tony's waist, though there was no need for it. Tony could feel Peter's pulse through his leather jacket, and it was jackhammering like he was pumped full of adrenaline. It made Tony grip the handle bars tighter as he parked the Harley, cutting the engine. 

Peter was the first to get off, and he grabbed his bag from behind him, tucking it under one arm. Tony was second, sliding his helmet onto one of the handle bars and tucking the keys inside his leather jacket. They stood there, silent, peering into the other's mind, before Peter stepped closer and pressed his face into Tony's shoulder.

“Thank you.” he murmured, voice reverberating through Tony's chest, and he pulled away, turning and walking towards the entrance to the rest of Tony's floor. Tony didn't immediately follow, instead, he bit the tip of his tongue, reminding himself to keep his chest closed. Nobody needed to see inside of him, not anymore. 

Peter was sitting at his kitchen counter, fidgeting with his hands and staring off into space. His backpack and his bag were on the floor beside him, disregarded and discarded, and Tony stepped over them to slide his hand over Peter's back. Peter leaned into the touch almost instantly, exhaling and slumping into Tony. 

“Uni is exhausting, Tony.” he breathed out, and it sounded too close to a sob for Tony's liking. “I'm so tired.” He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, clenching his jaw. Tony stepped to directly behind Peter, sliding his hands onto his shoulders and squeezing, massaging him tenderly. The knots of muscle in his shoulders made Tony wince, but he stifled it as he coaxed a soft groan from Peter. 

“How will going public fix that?” Tony asked, voice soft, and Peter half shrugged, leaning back into Tony's skilled hands. 

He hadn't touched Peter like this. They had never been like this with the other, partiallly because there was no need, and partially because Tony wasn't sure he would be able to act like it was nothing. It wasn't nothing. He was so far gone on the kid that it wasn't even funny anymore, unlike how it had been in the beginning. He'd been able to laugh at himself then, but after Thanos, he barely smiled. 

They hadn't really talked about that night. Peter seemed to want to forget it had ever happened, and Tony was right behind him. There had been too much death, too much sorrow. Though it had happened almost one year ago, it felt fresh, new, like a gaping, infected wound, slick with pus and red with heat. They had simply stuck a bandage over it, ignored the spreading pain, the way it was slowly taking over the rest of their bodies and their minds. They ignored it, ignored the putrid stench of rot and neglect that followed them everywhere they went, filling people's nostrils and making them gag or worse, pity them. 

They were scorched with a mark, a brand, that screamed broken and fucked up. They had saved the Universe, and in the process, lost themselves and found each other. Tony had tried so hard to end it with his life, to leave everyone else unscathed, to let him be the only one who would suffer. He'd taken the stones, fit them over his own gauntlet, and once their power was surging through him, he knew he was going to die. 

But then Peter, Peter fucking Parker, someone he didn't deserve, someone who tore him apart from the inside out and put him back together, someone who was too good for Tony to so much as talk to, screamed for him to stop. Tony's gaze had been drawn to Peter, locked in Cap's arms, fighting and baring his teeth with tear-stained cheeks like a rabid dog. He snarled at Tony, a river of tears pouring down his cheeks, finally kicking his way out of Cap's grip and almost flying for Tony. 

“No.” Peter had hissed, and then he grasped Tony's hand that wasn't holding the stones , and Tony's chest had cracked like a piece of crystal as he felt sudden relief. The burden wasn't his alone, anymore, the power wasn't so heavy. He wasn't alone. He wasn't going to die alone. 

“Going public....” Peter whispered, sighing, “it won't fix anything. I just...I figured it's time.” Tony tensed and said nothing. 

Peter had died with him. Surely he could handle the rest of the world knowing who he was? 

“Tony--” 

“You used to call me Mr Stark.” Tony interrupted suddenly, hands lax and simply resting on Peter's shoulders. Peter's entire body tensed, like he was a wound up coil, and he turned to look at Tony with blank eyes. “You used to laugh. You used to smile. You used to want to go to University. You used to bounce, to spring up from some of the worst blows I'd ever seen. You used to be this—this--invulnerable ray of sunshine that was so bright and so pure.”

Peter stood, sharp and lurching. His eyes were dark, darker than Tony had ever seen, and he wasn't sure if it was concern or fear he was feeling. The stool he'd been sitting on teetered, indecisive if it was going to topple over or stay upright. Tony stilled it with a suprisingly steady hand, refusing to look away from Peter for even a second. 

“I can't go back.” Peter gritted out. “I can't.” His eyes were stuck on the ground, pupils contracted to pinholes, and Tony wondered if it was a defensive mechanism from the spider bite. He swallowed, throat thick and sticky with what tasted like phlem, but what he knew to be as the craving for a drink. 

“I know.” he admitted. He did know. He knew better than anyone in the Universe. He was branded, wounded, infected. Peter was too, but in ways that were far more detrimental. Peter had never been branded before, but Tony had, several times. Afghanistan. Howard. Addictions. His wound was something he was learning to live with, while Tony had years upon years of experience.

It was strange, realizing he was in love with someone after they had died. He had died too, but that wasn't the point. The point was, he should have known before Peter died, before a piece of him was taken and ripped to shreds. He would have said something. Done something. Cherished Peter the way he deserved to be cherished. 

It was too late now, though. Tony couldn't heal Peter while he needed to heal himself, and he didn't even know how to start. 

“I didn't want to fall in love with you.” Peter said under his breath, and Tony's chest tightened painfully, like an angry man's fist. Peter wasn't looking at him, but that was fine. He wasn't sure if he could handle hearing those words and seeing Peter's eyes at the same time. “You were my mentor, the man I looked up to, the man I wanted to be. You were...” he trailed off and looked into the kitchen. 

“You are my world.” he smiled, huffing out a soft laugh that sounded fond. “I tried so hard to keep my distance emotionally, I tried to remind myself that you wouldn't ever look at me the way I looked at you, but it didn't work.” He turned, looking right into Tony's eyes, down into his chest where his heart was bleeding, bleeding, just for him. “I fell in love with you, Tony, and now it seems so trivial and naive.”

Tony was having trouble breathing, so he stopped trying and simply held it, pressing it almost painfully into the back of his throat. Peter turned away from him, letting out a sigh and letting his shoulders sag, and whether it was from defeat or relaxing, Tony couldn't tell. 

“You don't see the way they look at us.” he finally said, and Tony finally started to breathe again. “Bucky...he gets it. That's why we're so close. Steve doesn't, not really, because he's never truly died. He was frozen, but Bucky died. They killed him, and he rebirthed himself. We died and we rebirthed ourselves. Clint can't understand, or won't, I don't know anymore. Thor is the same, and Natasha...I needn't say any more.” he looked back at Tony, this time stepping closer to him, graceful as a cat. 

“They look at us like we're broken.” he murmured, and Tony barely registered his words as he felt Peter's fingers brush his own. He slid his fingers into the slots between Peter's, lacing them together, and it made his chest tighten into an even more severe fist when he realized how well they fit together. Like the only two pieces of a jagged and torn puzzle, his mind supplied, and Peter's fingers gripped around his gently.

“We aren't broken,” Tony whispered. Peter shook his head in agreement, sliding his fingers against Tony's other hand. He slotted them together again without a second thought. Tony could feel the warmth from Peter's body radiating into his own, and it was comforting. 

It scared him, the way he felt for Peter. Scared him more than dying had, more than Afghanistan, more than Thanos. He was sure, that if Peter asked him to choose between his team and Peter, he would choose Peter. If Peter asked him to give him everything, everything he had, he would do it. If Peter asked for his heart, he would rip through his flesh and crack open his ribs, splitting them into two, so that he could grasp his heart and hand it out to him, the lump of muscle still lurching and pumping blood. 

“We are cracked and chipped, but not broken.” Peter said softly, looking up at Tony with his molten eyes the colour of honey. Tony wasn't so sure he wasn't holding his severed beating heart out for him, judging by how naked he felt, how vulnerable he was. “People have cracks in them always, pieces missing and weak spots. We just bear ours with pride, we let everyone see the wounds and the scars like they were tattoos, inked into our skin by choice.” 

“Tattoos,” Tony repeated under his breath. He licked his lips and closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself sink deep into Peter, into what he was saying, what he meant. “I want you to stay here. I don't want you to leave again.” he said, and for a second he managed to think that he wasn't pleading, wasn't begging for Peter not to go, but that wasn't true. 

Peter hummed, and Tony opened his eyes to a smile that felt like cherry blossoms against his skin. “Yes,” he said, parting his lips only a centimeter, the word slurred and the perfect melody to Tony's ears. “I want that.” 

It occurred to Tony that he was crying, silent and as stoicly as one could be, his face completely neutral but wet and warm. He wasn't used to crying, not like this, not so utterly calmly, so casually. But then, this wasn't casual or calm. He was used to lurching sobs, choked off in the silence and inky darkness of his bedroom, his pillows taking most of the moisture from his face. 

Why was he crying? Was it because Peter had told him he loved him? Was it because someone was telling him he wasn't broken, that he was just cracked, like everybody else? Was it the implication under that, saying that he was okay? That it was going to be okay? Was it all of it, everything simply overwhelming him in an underwhelming way? 

Peter's hands slid from his, and he mourned their absence, only for his mourning to be cut short as they cupped his jaw. He blinked at Peter, and now he could feel the tears in the back of his throat, along with his heart. They were choking him, suffocating him, but Peter's eyes were so beautiful, Peter was so beautiful, and he never wanted to let him go. Peter's thumbs brushed away his tears, smearing them more than anything, but Tony didn't mind. 

“It hurts.” Tony whispered, and his voice wavered dangerously, like he was standing on the edge of a mountain, his heels no longer on solid ground. He swallowed, and if anything, it only brought his heart further up. “It hurts how much I would do for you.” He couldn't say how much I love you, because that wasn't enough. Those three words were what Peter had said, trivial and naive. If Tony was saying this before Thanos, he would have said those words, but as it was, they weren't the people they had been before. 

Saying I love you would simply be an insult. Peter deserved more than those three words, and Tony would give it to him. He would tell Peter he loved him in every way except for those three words. He would show him, every day, every minute he could. Tony didn't deserve Peter, because Peter deserved the best. He deserved perfection and happiness, something that Tony could barely manage for himself. But Tony knew that he would try the hardest out of every single other being in the entirety of the Universe, and he would probably do the best job. 

Peter softened at his words, what seemed to be too much anticipation and anxiety, sliding down from his shoulders. His lips curled further into a smile, and Tony found he couldn't return it. He couldn't smile, not because he didn't want to, but because he just...couldn't. Peter didn't seem to mind, or he understood, because he leaned up and brushed his soft lips against Tony's. 

There was no electric shock, no wave of adrenaline, nothing. It wasn't extraordinary, it wasn't anything other than a kiss, because they had gone through too much for childlike wonders to still be apart of their lives. It was like any other kiss, but it was with them. Tony was kissing Peter, and Peter was kissing Tony, and that was what made their hearts beat just a little bit faster, and their fingertips thrum with affection. 

Tony took Peter apart on his bed, taking down every single wall he had ever put up slowly, brick by brick. He mapped out the constellation that was Peter's freckles, scattered over his creamy body like stars. He mapped every nook and cranny with his mouth, explored the world that was Peter Parker, laid out for him and only for him. There was a galazy hidden under his clothes, even inside his chest, where Tony crawled and made his home, his hands cradling Peter's pulsing heart like it was the only thing in left in the world. 

Peter took Tony apart too, peeling away the hard shells that he had caked over himself, picking away the dried and crusted blood that surrounded his wound. He plucked away the stitches in his chest, the ones that kept himself closed and hidden, and bathed in the warmth and the infected blood that flooded out. He took his scars apart, unknit the flesh and the tissue that hadn't fully healed, and knotted it back together so it didn't hurt anymore. He took the parts of Tony that Tony couldn't stand, couldn't even bear to think about, and he changed them into something beautiful. He tore Tony into pieces, over and over and over again, rebuilding him again and again until he believed Peter when he said he was the most beautiful man he'd ever laid eyes on. 

When the pleasure became too much, and there was nothing left to make beautiful, and nothing left to discover, they toppled over the edge, fingers laced and mouthed slotted together. They choked on each other's voices, swallowing the noises like they were candy, unsure where one ended and the other began. Each touch was a promise, each kiss a vow, and neither knew whose tears were on their cheeks, but that was okay. 

The next day, after they had made crepes, happier than they had been for the last year, their smiles brighter than the stars, they wandered down to a tattoo parlor. Their arms were looped, their smiles faded but not gone. Peter got a small T in Tony's handwriting in the spot between his jaw and under his right ear, in red ink. Tony got a small P in Peter's handwriting, in the same place, just on his left, in blue ink. 

Some days they didn't smile. Some days they didn't kiss. Some days they didn't make love. Some days, they didn't even talk to each other. Some days, they fought and fought dirty, but that was okay. That was normal, for them. They made up the same day, before going to bed, because they had promised each other that without even saying the words. They would never go to bed angry, and if they were angry when they were going to go to bed, they wouldn't until it was solved. 

Peter never asked for Tony to choose, or to give him everything, or for his heart, but Tony did all of that anyway. He gave Peter his all, and in return, Peter gave him everything too. They traded hearts, chose each other through hardships, gave each other themselves and everything. 

It was beautiful and messy and though their hearts bled like they were always crying, they never ran out of love for the other. 

~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, feel free to let me know. I love hearing from you guys, it makes me feel so much more confident about posting more of my writing. 
> 
> Stay safe. I send hugs and warm fuzzies to those who need it, or those who just want some happiness. <3


End file.
